


Eye of the Storm

by Useless (ParisLeone)



Series: Mother Nature Kicks Voltron's Ass [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Action/Adventure, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gay Keith (Voltron), Human Allura (Voltron), Hunk & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, I'm not killing any of the palladins no worries, Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt Friendship, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Protective Shiro (Voltron), Storm Chasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-24 19:31:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9781982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParisLeone/pseuds/Useless
Summary: One year ago Katie Holt's father and brother died in a tragic storm chasing accident that left the third member of their team, Takashi Shirogane, brutally injured. The reports came back as a human error. It was the tornado that killed her family, but a mistake that left the team stranded in a field in the first place.Only, the details don't seem to line up. Katie, now working under the name Pidge, decides to get to the bottom of the mystery by following in her father's footsteps. But to do that, she'll need a team.





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man, okay I know next to nothing about storm chasing so this will require some research but I like the idea so I hope it's intriguing? Storm chaser Pidge and go!

Pidge could hear the sirens going off over the radio.

  
“Today marks the one year anniversary of the deaths of Samuel Holt and his son, Mathew Holt…”  
Her room lit up silver as a loud crack sounded outside. She hardly had time to count before thunder followed, a sound so loud it was as if the storm was boring down right on her house.

  
Which it was.

  
“Katie!” her mother yelled, running up the stairs, “We need to reach the shelter!”

  
Pidge closed her book and set it aside, swinging her feet to the floor. Her bed was covered in papers: research, mostly. Her camera hung on the wall, just above the machine. It wasn’t done yet. She hoped it wouldn’t get destroyed.

  
“…F4. Struck without warning leaving the three of them stranded…”

  
Picture frames rattled on the walls and her radio sputtered, its connection weakening by the second.  
“Takashi Shirogane… the only survivor of t… st…m… chasers…”

  
The connection cut out just as her door slammed open. Pidge felt her mother’s cold hands circle her small wrist, and she let herself be dragged out, away from the dead radio. Tonight wasn’t the night. Pidge knew that. The machine wasn’t ready. More importantly, she wasn’t ready. She would be soon though. She had to be.

  
One year scouring the internet for everything she could find was enough. Anything else she needed wouldn’t be within easy reach. She’d have to go out herself and figure out the rest from there.

  
Her father and brother hadn’t died a natural death. Tornadoes be damned. Shiro’s van wouldn’t just stall in the middle of a field. Why the hell it was off the road in the first place was as good a question as any. But the mechanic had reported it to be in near perfect condition. So why had its occupants been found broken and bloody miles away from their vehicle? The details didn’t line up.

  
Something had gone wrong that night and Pidge was going to find out what.


	2. Pocket Lint and Lunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge finds herself being followed by two boys from her class. There's some badly written notes, pocket lint and amateur fence climbing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyy, and we're back with some more Eye of the Storm. It took me a bit to figure out how to really get this story going but I think I finally got it. We'll get to the action soon, don't worry. Now, on to the adventure!
> 
> Oh and I'll try and update within the week!

Pidge Gunderson, preferably not known as Katie Holt for reasons pertaining to an active murder investigation and her disinterest in receiving obligatory condolences from strangers, was considering skipping school.

She didn’t do it often, but she knew for a fact that the upcoming afternoon at Garrison High held nothing but a mandatory school spirit assembly and a football match between their team and the neighbouring high school. Of course, she could attend her morning classes and then slip away during the lunch hour, but she’d have no way to get home and work on her machine until the end of the day came around and the bus was there to take her to her family’s acreage outside of the city.

She was just about to duck out and go hide in her father’s old workshop on the outskirts of the Holt property when the yellow school bus rolled up and the door opened with a screech. The bus driver looked down on her with the emotionless eyes of someone who was deeply regretting their career choice and she sighed. No choice then. School it was.

Her stop was the first in the morning, and last in the afternoon, making the commute even more insufferable for its length. But the decision to switch from her designated school to one even further away had been hers after all, and so suffer she would. At least no one knew her at Garrison High. There she wasn’t a Holt, wasn’t the victim of a tragic accident. Not to mention she wasn’t subjected to the pitying stares given to her when she publicly insisted it hadn’t been just that, an accident. Pidge was fine if no one believed her. She could handle it by herself.

Probably, anyway.

 

The morning passed in a blur of scribbled notebook pages and discreet research done on her phone under the desk. There were more important things to do after all. Important things to learn and most of them did not include the Chem lab that was due in a week. But she made note to prepare for it anyway. If her grades slipped her mom would come poking around and that wouldn’t do anything to further her efforts.

“The homework’s on the board,” her teacher said with a certain finality, and Pidge heard the familiar sound of the desk drawer housing his lunch rolling open. She flipped her books closed and began stuffing them in her backpack. It was a little early but that sound meant class was done. Teachers were so predictable.

She looked up and met the eyes of a boy oddly intent on watching her. His gaze didn’t waver even after she caught him staring. Pidge frowned. She knew him, or knew of him rather. Lance McClain. He liked to make jokes. She looked around for his usual cohort and found Hunk resting his head on his desk.

“Can I help you?” Pidge asked.

“No, no,” Lance said, waving a hand and raising an eyebrow, “It’s fine.”

Pidge didn’t bother to respond, instead snatching up her backpack and darting for the door. The bell hadn’t rung but the teacher hardly noticed and as Pidge reached the exit she turned to look back just in time to see Lance nudge Hunk off his desk and whisper something unintelligible. She watched Hunk nod and stretch, taking a prolonged look at her desk.

Pidge felt her chest tighten at the thought that they knew more than they should.

The bell rang and Pidge cast those thoughts aside. No way. Not those two.

She ducked out into the hallway and did her best not to get swept up in the crowd. The chaos made good cover for her escape onto the back compound. From there she’d wait the day out somewhere no one would find her…

 

* * *

 

 

            “The homework’s on the board,” the teacher said loudly, cutting through Lance’s fantasy about attending the party the seniors’ had planned to celebrate their possible victory in the upcoming game. He looked at the board and then looked at his notes (a sort of jumbled mess of short form sentences he’d have to make sense of later) and finally let out an audible sigh.

            The sound of papers rustling and books slamming shut shifted his attention and he set his eyes on the student who sat slightly behind him one row over. The teacher hadn’t dismissed them yet so why the kid was packing up was beyond him. And if he wasn’t mistaken that was the boy who’d skipped a couple of grades too…

            The kid looked up, peering at Lance through large round lenses and asked, “Can I help you?”

            “No, no,” Lance said, wanting to ask him what he’d been working on. He took a peek at the kid’s notes when he’d been passing along worksheets earlier in the class and it was definitely not what they were covering in the lesson. At least, Lance hoped it wasn’t what they were covering in the lesson. “It’s fine,” he said, chickening out.

            The kid didn’t say anything as they grabbed their stuff to leave. An idea struck Lance as he watched him walk away and he twisted even further around and tapped Hunk.

            Lance leaned in, “What do you think of the kid beside you?”

            Hunk’s nose twitched, “Pidge? Why?”

            “He’s supposed to be super smart, right? Skipped a couple of grades? We should get him in on the project.”

            Hunk nodded and sat straight, looking over at the desk beside him.

            “Might as well,” he said, “We could use the help.”

            “Great,” Lance said, springing up as the bell rang, “Then follow me.”

 

            Lance ducked out into the hall in time to catch Pidge bobbing up and down in the crowd of students. He sprang forward muttering “excuse me” and “pardon me” as many times as necessary, not bothering to check if Hunk was following. If he lost sight of that fluffy hair for even a second their whole plan would go up in smoke.

            He panicked for a moment, losing track of his target in the throngs of hungry teenagers before catching sight of a small figure slipping through the door to the back compound. It was away from the lunch room and the football field where most of the students would be congregating in a little while. He made a beeline for the exit, pushing it open and darting out into the cool April air. Hunk tumbled through the door a second later and it clicked shut behind them.

            “Lance, maybe we shouldn’t be following someone who didn’t seem all that interested in being followed,” Hunk said as soon as Lance started off in the direction that he thought he saw that fluffy hair disappear.

            “No way, Hunk,” he said, striding forward with purpose, “You were the one who said we could use the help. Besides, the kid’s like, a certified genius or something.”

            That was the thought Lance had running through his head as he made his way around the corner and caught sight of a small body squeezing through a hole in the back of the school’s chain link fence. This was his chance and he darted for the place where he’d last seen an orange boot.

            “I can’t fit through that,” Hunk said in a monotone, coming up behind him.

            “Then get ready to climb,” Lance said, rubbing his palms together, “We have ourselves a science fair partner to catch.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Pidge was not much of a nature lover. Sure, she’d grown up on a farm but she always much preferred the glaring screen of her computer and the familiar cold air of her father’s workshop to fields and bugs and dirt. In the end, she was much more interested in how tornadoes and the machines that tracked them worked than chasing around weather phenomena in a vehicle. That is until last year. Now she was very keen on doing so. There was only one problem.

            Trying to outrun tornadoes on a bike seems like a bit of a bad idea.

            She didn’t need a van either though, not if the machine she was building worked. She’d need a small car at most, and there was one of those parked in her very own garage. She just needed to find a way to sneak it out without her mom knowing. Then she could make her way out to where…

            A loud thump drew her attention to the fence she’d just scrambled under and she ducked low to the ground.

            “Dammit, Lance,” someone, probably Hunk, complained loudly, “That hurt.”

            There was a loud shushing sound and then silence.

            “You cannot be serious,” Pidge whispered, creeping back towards the fence. They must have tried to climb it, but when she got a good view of it, no one was there.

            “Whatcha looking at?” Lance asked over her shoulder. Pidge scrambled forward and spun to face the two boys that had snuck up behind her. Lance laughed and she frowned.

            “Why are you following me?” Pidge demanded.

            “Well you see,” Hunk started.

            “We had something we wanted to ask you,” Lance said, interjecting on whatever his friend was about to say, “Wanna grab lunch?”

            “No,” Pidge said, “I have things to do.”

            “Science things?” Lance’s eyes twinkled and Pidge hesitated.

            “No,” she said, unconvincingly.

            “Right,” Lance said, “So you wouldn’t be interested in joining up with us for the science fair or anything?”

            “I have things to do,” Pidge said again, stepping to the side. Lance moved in front of her and held his arms up to stop her from leaving.

            “Hear us out,” he said, looking over at Hunk before turning back to her, “Just come with us for lunch and you don’t have to agree to anything but… just, hear us out.”

            Pidge looked at him and thought about the few pieces of change and the pencil shavings she had floating around in the bottom of her backpack, and then the plastic wrapped cheese sandwich her mom had made.

            “I don’t have any money,” she said.

            “I’ll buy,” Lance insisted, grinning.

            Pidge regarded him suspiciously, wondering if this was really a good idea. Not that she wasn’t curious about what he wanted (she was always curious about everything), but this might put a wrench in her plans. Of course, a wrench might be just what she needs to get her machine up and running.

            Pidge looked between the two of them and sighed.

            “Fine.”

            “Great!” Lance said walking off to the left and away from the school, “Then follow me.”

            “The shop’s the other way, Lance,” Hunk said, pointing in the opposite direction.

            “Of course,” he said, walking back, “I knew that.”

            Pidge watched him go before turning and making eye contact with Hunk. He shrugged.

            “Let’s go then,” she said, turning to follow.

 

 


	3. I Know a Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance, Hunk and Pidge strike a deal for the science fair. Pidge feels like she's getting closer to beginning her investigation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. I got a bit stuck in the middle. I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who has left Kudos or bookmarked this. It brightens up my day every time I get a notification.
> 
> Chapter 4 should be up within the week. I know exactly where I'm going with that one.

“So,” Pidge said slowly after they’d settled down at a table in the corner and she watched Lance bound away to get food. He had put on a charming smile for the cashier and was leaning closer to talk to her, probably trying to get her number. She giggled and Pidge sighed, looking back to Hunk, “How did you two meet?”

            “Oh, we’ve been friends since first grade,” Hunk said, scratching his head as if the very act of remembering had made it itch, “Met in the hall during lunch. We both had nowhere else to sit so we just sort of… started hanging out.”

            They both turned to watch Lance as the girl behind the counter shook her head, still grinning and pointed him to the pickup counter.

            “He likes to flirt,” Hunk said, “Smart guy though, really cares about people.”

            “I see,” Pidge said, taking off her glasses to clean them.

            “You don’t have to do the science fair if you don’t want to,” Hunk said after it became evident she was more focused on scrubbing the lenses than continuing the conversation, “It was just some idea Lance had. He seems to think you’re into all that science stuff.”

            “It’s not that I’m not interested in science,” Pidge began, sliding her round lenses back up her nose, “I just have more important things to do.”

            “And what could be more important than your new friends?” Lance asked, sliding a tray of sandwiches onto the table. It was then that Pidge remembered then that he’d never asked what she’d wanted in the first place. She regarded the tray of food suspiciously and Lance slid one across to her and smiled, “Turkey alright?”

            Pidge took it and peeked inside the wrapper, not sure what he’d do if she said no, “Sure.”

            “Perfect,” Lance said, handing one off to Hunk and then taking the last for himself and looking at her expectantly, “So?”

            “So, what?” Pidge asked, frowning.

            “So what’s this important thing you’ve been working on?” he asked again.

            “Lance,” Hunk cautioned, giving his friend a knowing glance before biting into his sandwich.

            “What?” Lance asked, wide-eyed, “I’m just curious. I wanna get to know the kid.”

            “It’s just a project,” Pidge said evasively, busying herself with picking the tomatoes off the bread.

            “Like a science fair project?” Lance asked, elbowing Hunk, “I had no idea we were fraternizing with the competition.”

            “No,” Pidge said, trying to decide how much she should tell them, “It’s a personal project. I’m… I’m trying to build something.”

            Hunk regarded her for a moment and swallowed the sandwich he’d been chewing, “Like a machine?”

            Pidge nodded and his eyes lit up.

            “What kind of machine?” he asked, leaning over the table.

            “It’s… uh,” Pidge paused, not realizing he’d be this interested, “Sort of a combination of things. It’s hard to explain.”

            “You can trust us, Pidge,” Lance said, “Besides, Hunk here loves that kind of stuff. He’s even taking that engineering elective. Maybe he can help?”

            She looked between the two of them and thought of the pages upon pages of notes in her bag. She had yet to get the machine to work. A second set of eyes would be useful. All in all, she’d calculated everything right but something had been off in the building process, she knew that for sure. Something that was stopping the whole thing from just turning on and functioning as she’d intended it to. If he really could help…

            “It’s a weather machine,” Pidge said, finally taking a bite out of her sandwich. She chewed for a moment and thought about how she would explain.

“It was supposed to be a compact version of everything you could need for calculating and evaluating a large-scale weather event plus a built-in camera and a remote control. It needs to be functional for just one person. I just can’t get it to turn on.”

            Hunk and Lance silently communicated something through just a look and Pidge shifted in her seat. Something like that only happened after knowing someone for a long time. She remembered experiencing the same thing with her brother years back. Most of the time it was at the dinner table, and he’d silently comment on the meatloaf or check to make sure she was doing okay without alerting their parents. It would be through a simple nod or the raise of an eyebrow, or him tapping his fingers on the table, but Pidge always knew what he meant. He’d been a good brother.

            “I can take a look at it if you want,” Hunk said, snapping her back to the present.

            “An eye for an eye, if you will,” Lance said grinning, “We help you, you help us.”

            “That is so not what that expression means,” Pidge said, thinking about their offer, “But say I did decide to take you up on this… what would I need to do?”

            “Wellllllll,” Lance said to her, “I’m so glad you asked. You see, Hunk and I,” he slung an arm around Hunk’s shoulders, “Are participating in this year’s science fair and we’re aiming to win.”

            “Right,” Pidge said, resting her chin in her hand, “So what’s your project?”

            “That is where you come in,” Lance said, “We have absolutely no idea what we’re going to do, but I figure with your genius brain, Hunk’s mechanical skills, my natural leadership abilities and dashing smile, we could have this in the bag.”

            Pidge frowned at them both. She hadn’t been expecting for them to not have any plans whatsoever. The fair was in what? A couple of weeks? That was hardly enough time.

“And what do I get out of it?” she asked.

            “I’ll help you fix your… uh, weather machine,” Hunk said, “We can get it up and running in no time.”

            Pidge thought about their offer. Weighed the pros and cons in her mind. On one hand, she might actually have a working machine at the end of this. Then her investigation could really take off. On the other hand, she’d have to put up with these two fence climbing weirdos. She looked between the two of them and pursed her lips.

She placed one finger in the center of the table, “I want one more thing,” she said.

            “Name it,” Lance told her, forward in anticipation,

            “I want you both to help me test it,” she said, “During a storm, I mean. I need to know if it works.”

            This was what she needed. An opportunity she couldn’t resist dropped right in her lap. She’d finally be able to find out what really happened to her dad and Matt and all she had to do was help these two win the science fair.

            Lance balked at her words and looked over to his friend. That perpetually worried expression had found it’s way back to Hunk’s face and he began fiddling with his orange bandana.

            “Like, storm chasing?” he asked.

            “Exactly like that,” Pidge told him, trying to appear as if it was no big deal, “Nothing dangerous. I just need to make sure it’s functional.”

            “Deal,” Lance said, holding out a hand, palm facing the table. Hunk hesitated but took a long look at his friend and shook his head.

            “I don’t feel good about this,” he said, placing his hand on top of his friends, “But as long as it’s not, you know, life threatening.”

            “Great,” Pidge said, slapping her hand to the top of the pile, “You have yourself a science fair partner then.”

            They all flung their hands up on the count of three, initiated by Lance, before sitting back down.

            “So, when do we start?” he asked her.

            Pidge looked at the clock and drummed her fingers on the table, “Take the bus home with me after school. We start today.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Three hours went by in a flash and, though it came as a surprise to her, Pidge found herself enjoying Hunk and Lance’s company. She tried to ignore the guilt twisting in her gut that the thought of having fun brought on. She wasn’t wasting time here when she could be finding out who murdered her dad and Matt. She had made a deal that would, in the end, put her ahead of schedule. That was all. She hadn’t forgotten. Not even for a second. So, spending an afternoon with some classmates and taking a break was fine, she reasoned.

            “Pidge!” Lance called from up ahead. He was waiting at a crosswalk that had just switched to green and waving for her to hurry up. She looked around and realized she’d stopped in the middle of the block. Hunk watched her silently from beside his friend.

            She ran to catch up, making the light just in time for it to switch over, “Sorry,” she gasped.

            “No problem,” Lance said, rolling his neck to one side in a stretch, “Buses are already here. We made it.”

            “Oh, good,” she said, pausing, “Um...”

            “What’s wrong?” Hunk asked as they walked up, twisting his head to look back at her. She peered around him to look at the lineup of buses, mostly empty today due to the football game.

            It wasn’t the bus they were getting on that was bothering her though, but what was at the end of it.

            “Nothing,” Pidge said, “Just thinking.”

            Thinking about whether she could sneak them past her mom, that is. Though the closer they got to her bus the less she thought it was possible. Bringing friends over was rare for Pidge, at least since she skipped two grades and left all her junior high friends behind. Now she just came home everyday at the same time, alone, and went off to her father’s workshop. If she couldn’t get them out of sight fast enough they’d be dragged inside and subjected to a very motherly interrogation the likes none of them had ever seen before.

            Not to mention they’d probably find out who she was. Maybe even back out of the project.

            “When we get off the bus,” Pidge said slowly, “You two should head straight to my workshop. My mom isn’t very… receptive to visitors.”

            Not true. Pidge was relatively certain Colleen Holt would love the distraction. The life of an accountant was not necessarily the most exciting, especially when you had to come home to an empty house every day. Mrs. Colt would love to gush about Pidge, or Katie, rather, and show her two new cohorts some embarrassing baby pictures. Of which there were many. Matt had loved taking photos. Pidge even had his old camera hanging up in her room.

            “Sure,” Lance said, leaping up into the bus in a single bound, “No problem.”

            Hunk followed him in, with Pidge bringing up the rear. She nodded to the driver and followed the boys to the back seat where they all dropped their stuff and collapsed into the stiff leather benches. Someone had drawn a pair of breasts on the back of the seat facing Pidge, or at least that was what she assumed the doodle was supposed to be, and she sighed.

            “Teenagers,” she muttered, turning to dig through her bag.

            A few minutes passed and as it became clear that the few kids who had filtered onto the bus after the bell rang would be the only passengers that afternoon, the door squeaked shut and the engine started up. When Pidge looked up from her bag Lance was kneeling on the seat and watching out the back window. He flopped back down after the school disappeared and pursed his lips. Beside him Hunk looked positively green.

            “Is he going to be alright?” Pidge asked, moving closer to the window to avoid being in the ‘splash zone’ if you will. She had no desire to see him spew the contents of his lunch all over the back of the bus.

            “Oh yeah,” Lance said, patting his friends back, “He’s fine. Does this every day.”

            Pidge side-eyed the both of them but nodded. She’d take his word for it, this time.

            “So,” Lance said, “I’ve been thinking. If we’re going to test out your little machine, we’ll need a ride, won’t we?”

            “I guess so,” Pidge said, “Neither of you happen to have a car, do you?”

            “Nope,” Lance said, “And I take it your mom probably wouldn’t be willing to let a bunch of kids borrow whatever she drives to go chasing a thunderstorm?”

            “There’s a better chance of aliens crash landing on Earth than of my mom letting me take her car. I guess we’ll just have to… figure something out.”

            A small smile tugged at the corners of Lance’s lips and Pidge regarded him suspiciously.

            “Don’t worry about it,” he said.

            “Why?”

            “Just cause.”

            “You just said you didn’t have a vehicle,” Pidge said, “What do you mean don’t worry about it?”

            “Nothing!” Lance insisted, holding his hands up, “You need a van, right? Something to fit all of us?”

            “Well, yeah. That would probably work out best.”

            “Great,” Lance said, “I think I know a guy.”


	4. That Guy... You Know... The One With The Van

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grumpy van dwelling teenage boy makes his debut with the added entertainment of some reckless driving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. Ooooh man this is late. Forgive me, my sincerest apologies. Comicon was wicked and time consuming and this project isn't dead I swear

 

“Don’t touch that!” Pidge snapped as Lance rummaged through her father’s old boxes of metal odds and ends. He had grown bored shortly after she had snuck them past her mother and out to the shed. Which was around the same time Hunk had become more animated and talkative. He was going on about the weather machine’s mechanics now, and Pidge was somewhat irritated that she kept having to split her attention between the two boys.

            “Lance,” she warned, as he went to pull back a dusty sheet.

            “Fine,” he grumbled, pouting a little bit and dragging a metal fold-out chair to the worktable. He plunked himself down and drummed his fingers on the table, humming some popular tune from the radio.

            Hunk had a lamp shining down into the weather machine and was going at something with a pair of tweezers. Pidge leaned over him and caught the last bit of what he was saying.

            “A bit of a complicated rig, but nice job building it, for someone who doesn’t take the engineering elective you probably should. Anyway, it shouldn’t be too hard to fix. I can see where you went wrong,” he stuck his tongue out in concentration as Pidge frowned. She hadn’t been able to see where she went wrong which would bother her for who knows how long. Hunk leaned back, causing her to do the same as he went for another one of the pieces he had scattered about. Pidge vowed to ask him what the hell he had done to get it to work. If he did get it to work, that is.

            “Can we get to the exciting bit where we test this out already?” Lance asked, resting his chin in his hand with his eyes closed. Hunk was busy fiddling about with one hand inside the machine so Pidge answered instead.

            “We need a van first.”

            “Right. Finally! Something I can help with. Come on Pidge,” Lance said, hopping up from the table and darting out the door.

            “What?!” Pidge twisted around with a start, giving one last longing look at her machine before jumping to follow Lance out the door. He didn’t exactly strike her as a country boy. Who knows what kind of trouble he’d get in. Or what kind of trouble he’d get her in especially if her mom saw him.

            “Lance! Where are you going?” Pidge called, stumbling through the doorway. The long grass tickled her bare legs as she ran to catch up, making her wish she hadn’t worn shorts.

            “Your mom won’t mind if we borrow her car, will she?” Lance asked, as Pidge came skidding up beside him. He shielded his eyes from the sun with a hand and gazed out at the house way in the distance. The garage was right beside the shed they were working in, and there was a second one attached to the house. The one beside them used to be for the old storm chasing van among other things. Now, as far as Pidge knew, Takashi Shirogane had the van, wherever he was. She hadn’t seen him around for over a year.

The garage attached to the house was for storing Mrs. Colt’s unreliable, creaky old car that she bought used in 2003. Which meant it was older than Pidge herself. Somehow, against all odds, Mrs. Colt still got it to run.

Pidge was not storm chasing in that absolute piece of crap, nor was she about to ask to borrow it. That was a death sentence.

“No, Lance.”

“No, she won’t mind?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

            “Yes, she will mind. I mind. And no, we are not asking for it. She’s not supposed to know you’re here, remember?”

            “Riiiight,” Lance said, placing his hands on his hips, “So how are we supposed to find the van?”

            “What do you mean ‘find the van’?” Pidge asked, “I thought you said you knew a guy?”

            “I do know a guy, sort of. I just don’t know where that guy is… I’m sure he’ll help us though,” Lance said.

            “What’s his name?” Pidge asked, slapping a hand to her forehead, “And how do we find him?”

            “His name,” Lance smiled, “Is Keith Kogane. And last I heard, he was living somewhere out in the country.”

            “Can you get any more vague?” Pidge groaned, “Out in the country? Where in the country? Are we just going to drive around, knocking on doors until someone gives us a lead on where exactly this guy is?”

            “Well,” Lance said, “Do you have a better idea?”

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

* * *

 

 

            “So where do you know him from?” Pidge shouted, hoping Lance could hear her over the roar of the wind. She felt his arms tighten around her abdomen as they turned a corner, kicking up dirt and rocks from the unpaved road. The ATV wobbled and Pidge tightened her grip on the handles.

            “He went to Garrison High last year,” Lance called back, “We were in the same class.”

            “What do you mean went?”

            “What?” Lance asked.

            “WHAT DO YOU MEAN WENT?” Pidge began to slow down, turning up another driveway. She could vaguely remember coming here once, with her father when she was a kid. Mr. Colt had known everyone in the neighbouring farms. He had a knack for making friends.

            “He dropped out,” Lance said as the wind died down. Pidge braked, and stopped the quad outside of the bungalow, twisting the key to shut off the engine. She left it in the ignition and waited for Lance to get down. He unbuckled his helmet, pulled it off and somehow managed to look better than when he’d put it on.

Pidge thought it was a little unfair as she pulled hers off and caught a look at herself in the side mirror. Her hair was messier than usual, sticking up in places she’d prefer it not to. Lance chuckled and set his helmet down on the seat before striding up to the house.

            He rang the doorbell and waited, looking around at the scenery. A frenzied barking erupted from inside and Pidge identified the sound of nails on linoleum as she approached. A man opened the door and a massive shaggy hound flew through the open space, just a blurry streak through the air as it completely missed Lance and tackled Pidge to the ground.

            “Jeb!” the man at the door yelled, “Get off ‘em!”

            Pidge wanted to ask what on Earth the man had thought would happen when he opened the door. Had he thought maybe that perhaps the dog would sit? Also, who names a dog Jeb? What made one look at a dog and think, yes, that dog looks like a Jeb. Of course, Pidge was having trouble seeing what the dog actually looked like, as it was currently slobbering up her glasses, but still, she had a hard time imagining a dog that looked as though it should be named Jeb. Of course, she’d also never had a dog. Her brother had wanted one once. He’d wanted to call it Gunther.

            That also seemed like a strange name for a dog.

Pidge felt the animal let up, stopping it’s incessant licking of her face as it padded over to Lance. She gasped for breath and felt her hair and face now gelled with saliva. Lance let out another one of his charming little laughs and scratched behind Jeb’s ears.

“What a cutie,” he cooed, and then in a more serious tone, “How are you sir?”

“Just fine, lad. I’m doing just fine,” the man who opened the door replied. Pidge plucked her glasses off her face and looked for a clean place to wipe them. She came up empty until Lance plucked a bandana from some unknown pocket and handed it to her without so much as a glance in her direction. It was a pleasant blue color and she unfolded it to begin scrubbing away dog spit.

“What can I do you for?” Pidge heard the man ask.

“We’re looking for someone,” Lance said casually, “A friend of mine actually. He lives out here. I was wondering if you’d seen him? Skinny, likes the color red, might or might not still wear eyeliner?”

Everything was blurry without her glasses and Pidge sighed with relief when she could finally see again. The world became sharper and she looked down at the piece of cloth Lance had given her, discovering that it had something written on it.

“Friends forever” it read in handstitched uneven lettering along one edge.

Pidge folded it back up and tried not to dirty it anymore as she staggered to her feet.

“Eh…” the man said, “Might’ve. Drives around in a van, does he?”

“Yes!” Lance said, “That’s him. Probably. Does he have a mullet?”

“That’s the one,” the man confirmed, scratching his balding sun-spotted scalp, “Seen him around for the last little while. You got an off-road vehicle?”

“We do,” Pidge interjected, finding herself getting excited. They’d been driving around for well over two hours and the sun was beginning to descend. It would be chilly out soon, not to mention Pidge had no idea what would happen if her mom went out to the workshop looking for her and found a preoccupied Hunk instead. This was the first lead they’d had so far and she was eager to get this over with.

“Then I’d suggest lookin’ around the area. Kid likes to park off in the trees, makes trips down to the convenience store closer to town for food. My wife likes to leave him…”

The man trailed off for a second as if looking for the right words.

“Baked goods. Muffins ‘n such” he continued, “She’s a nice lady, likes to help people.”

“I’m sure she is, sir,” Lance said and Pidge could see the man weighing his words, as if trying to determine whether Lance was mocking him. Apparently, he decided Lance was indeed a nice boy because he nodded and turned to Pidge, seeming to take a closer look.

“Hey, aren’t you one of Sam’s kids?”

            Pidge’s stomach lurched and she grabbed Lance’s arm, dragging him back to the quad much to Jeb’s dismay.

            “I’m not,” she said quickly to the befuddled man, “I’m Pidge, just Pidge. We should go now. Thanks for the help!”

            She had her helmet on and the ATV started in a flash, while Lance had barely hopped on the back before she spun the thing around and raced down the driveway. She’d let Lance do all the talking before, staying way back from the houses to avoid being recognized. This time though, she’d gotten too close.

            Lance took one hand from around her waist and patted her back. Pidge assumed it was supposed to be comforting and to her surprise, she found that it was.

            “Eyes on the road,” Lance said in her ear, “I’ll keep an eye out for Keith.”

 

            Much to her disappointment, they had to call it quits within the hour. It was getting too dark and Hunk had texted Lance that their ride was almost there. Pidge turned back with one last look at the sprawling countryside and drove Lance back to the Holt family property. They went in through the back so as not to disturb her mom and Pidge waved goodbye to them as they snuck away into the dimly lit evening.

            Ten minutes later her phone buzzed as she was trying to sneak through the back door, drawing her mother’s attention.

            “Working late?” she asked, sounding somewhat disappointed.

            “I was,” Pidge said, trying to stifle her guilt, “I had a lot of homework.”

            “How was school? How are you doing with the classes? Are they too hard?”

            Pidge paused for a second and then gave her mom a small smile, “I made some friends.”

            Mrs. Colt perked up, “Really?”

            “I’m serious,” Pidge told her as she kicked off her shoes and tiptoed around the kitchen table to the fridge, “They’re really cool guys. And no, mom. Classes are fine.”

            “Guys?” Mrs. Colt asked in that suspicious parental tone. Completely bypassing her concern for her daughter who’d managed to skip two grades. Not that she had anything to be concerned about.

            Pidge pulled an apple out of the fridge and rolled her eyes.

            “I’m going to my room,” she announced, darting past her mother and swinging around the banister, “Good night!”

            “I want to meet these boys,” Mrs. Colt called after her. A statement which Pidge pointedly ignored. She made a mental note to make sure that never happened.

            She touched the closed door to Matt’s room as she passed before kicking the door shut to her own. Her bag sailed through the air and bounced onto her bed while Pidge dug her phone out of her pocket. There was a text from Lance. She flopped down beside her bag as she opened her message.

 

_Got to the car. Meet up tomorrow at the workshop? Noon?_

            Pidge typed back a quick ‘yes’ and threw her phone down. They’d find this Keith person tomorrow for sure. Pidge wanted to believe that.          

Sleep took her before long. Though not before she had time to look back on recent events. Had it really been just that morning she’d caught those two boys climbing a fence to follow her?

What a strange day.

 

* * *

 

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

            “LANCE!” Pidge yelled as he sped by her and began veering far too close to the ditch on her father’s ATV. She’d dragged that one out of the garage today too so she wouldn’t have him wrapped around her torso for hours again but seeing him whip around like a wannabe stuntman was getting on her nerves. If he rolled it she wouldn’t be strong enough to get the damn thing off him and now she was wishing she’d found the old headsets so she could yell right into his helmet.

            She sped up and tried to keep pace.

            “See anything?” Lance called over to her.

            Pidge scanned the countryside and wrinkled her nose.

            “Not yet.”

            They’d been at it for quite awhile again only this time the sun was beating down on them with a vengeance. Pidge had rubbed extra strength sun-block all over herself before she left but she was almost certain she’d be red as a tomato by the time they returned to the workshop, with Keith or without.

            With the way this was going it wouldn’t matter if Hunk finished the weather machine or not. Without a van, it was all for nothing.

            “There!” she just barely heard Lance call over the wind, he was standing up on the quad now and looking out to the left. Pidge just caught sight of the tail end of a white van before it disappeared behind a cluster of trees.

            They’d found him.

            Of course, now that they’d found him, Pidge wasn’t sure what they were supposed to do.

            “What now?” she asked Lance.

            He looked over at her and made a head bobbing motion, “We stop that van.”

            With that, he twisted his right hand and sped forward, abandoning all rules of the road in exchange for a speedy pursuit. Pidge kept right on his tail as they raced down the road. Lance’s jacket flapped in the wind as he leaned forward. Pidge couldn’t see his face but she imagined there was a very determined expression plastered across it.

            They made a wide turn left and pressed forward. Pidge barely had any notice before Lance put on the brakes. They skidded to a stop and were facing the back of a dirty white van. It had stopped on the side of the road. Lance cut his engine but as he made to get off a blurry face appeared in the driver’s side window.

            “Is he getting out?” Pidge asked.

            “Good question,” Lance said, pausing. He shrugged and hopped down.

            The van’s engine sputtered to life. In a second it was gone, kicking up dust and leaving nothing but skid marks in the road as a sign it had parked there at all.

            Pidge and Lance turned to each other.

            “What the hell?” Pidge gaped.

            Lance bolted for his ATV, bringing it to life with the twist of a key.

            “Follow my signals,” he said to her which was irritatingly vague as usual, before flying forward to chase the van.

            Pidge raced after him, catching sight of a disappearing van in the distance as they cleared the trees. Lance made some weird motion with his hand that Pidge interpreted as stay on the road because she was not about to do what he seemed intent on doing. Lance turned his ATV right in the direction of the escaping Keith and drove into the ditch and up into the open field. Luckily for him there was no barbed wire fence. Or perhaps not so lucky depending on how well he managed to control his vehicle.

            The van was traveling horizontal to them now and Lance was headed straight for it. Pidge tried to keep her eyes on the road ahead as she made a right turn and headed straight for the back of the van. She could see Lance trying to intercept and felt all hopes die as the van sped up.

            Lance however, had found the gear switch and cranked up the speed to something Pidge wasn’t sure she’d be able to match.

            Pidge watched Lance and the van get ever closer and closed her eyes as they were about to collide. Lance hadn’t managed to get fast enough. He’d just charged in recklessly and now–

            A horn blared and brakes squealed and Pidge opened her eyes when her ATV swerved only to see the van stopped in the middle of the road. She sped up and then slammed on the brakes, not even bothering to turn off her quad as she threw her helmet on the ground and raced forward. They had the van boxed in, they’d done it! But was Lance okay?

            “LANCE!” Pidge yelled, sprinting up to the van. She ran up the passenger side and tripped, sprawling face down on the dirt road.

            “Pidge!”

            There was the distinct sound of two feet hitting the ground and Pidge looked up to see a blurry Lance running towards her. He crouched down and helped her sit up, picking her glasses off the ground and blowing the dust off them. Mercifully they weren’t broken but Pidge only had a second to be relieved before Lance stood up.

            “Hold on,” he said loudly and Pidge looked up to him with his hands outstretched in surrender. Lance edged himself in front of where she was sitting and that was when Pidge caught sight of the boy with the massive hunting knife.

            His hair was pulled back in something that might have resembled a ponytail and he was wearing the most worn-out t-shirt Pidge had ever seen. Her eyes, however, were quickly drawn back to the serrated blade being uncomfortably pointed in their direction.

            “Keith, buddy, pal,” Lance said, “Please don’t kill us.”

            “Who are you?” Keith asked coldly, “And why the hell are you following me?”

            “I thought you said you knew a guy!?” Pidge said, stumbling to her feet.

            “I might have exaggerated a little bit,” Lance admitted, “I mean, I do know a guy. I know this guy. He just, doesn’t seem to know me.”

            “Why does he have a knife!?”

            “I don’t know!” Lance yelled back. His voice was rising higher, revealing his panic.

            Keith waved his knife around menacingly and looked between the two of them, “One of you needs to start talking.”

            “Alright!” Lance yelled at the same time that Pidge said, “We come in peace.”

            Neither of those were particularly helpful.


	5. First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beware: four teenagers making really bad decisions ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for a shorter update time! Hope it's alright. Chapter 6 is already written and in the editing process.

“We weren’t following you, I swear!” Lance yelped as Keith’s knife settled on him.

            “You just drove a four-wheeler through a field to stop my van.”

            “No, we didn’t,” Lance insisted.

            “I just saw y–“ Keith sputtered, he pointed his knife at Lance’s ATV, “It’s right there! In front of my van.”

            “Maybe… but who’s got the knife here? I think it’s us who should be questioning you,” Lance said pointedly, before lunging forward and smacking the knife from Keith’s hand. Keith dove backwards and hit the ground, rolling all the way up to his feet and sliding a second, smaller knife out of his boot.

            “Why does he have another knife?” Pidge yelled as she reeled back, “Who needs more than one?”

            She stumbled to a stop and the three of them faced each other, breathing hard. Lance and Keith’s eyes were locked on one another, but Pidge had a feeling she wasn’t fast enough to do anything even with Keith’s attention elsewhere.

            “Looks like this is a good old fashioned standoff,” Lance said.

            A look of absolute bewilderment flashed across Keith’s face.

            “I’m the only one with a knife,” he said.

            “Yeah well,” Lance mumbled, “You haven’t stabbed us yet. So, there’s that.”

            “Yes!” Pidge exclaimed, making them both flinch, “Which means there’s some intelligent reasoning behind the knife wielding maniac.”

            “I take it you’re the intelligent one?” Keith asked, keeping his knife trained on Lance but talking directly to Pidge.

            “Hey,” Lance protested before promptly getting shushed by Pidge.

            “That’s a matter of opinion,” she said, “But seeing as I’m the only reason we’re out here you can deal with me.”

            “Fine,” Keith said, slipping his blade back into his boot, “But I’m not about to stab a little girl.”

            He pointed to Lance, “You, on the other hand, are not a little girl. Slap me again and we’re going to have a problem.”

            “Hold up,” Lance said, “Pidge is a girl?”

            Pidge sighed, “I never said I wasn’t.”

            “And what do you mean we’re going to have a problem?” Lance said taking a step closer to Keith before backing away as the boy took on an aggressive stance.

            “When you two are done puffing up your chests and flexing aggressively at each other let me know. I want to get this over with,” Pidge said sourly, spinning around to face the open field even though it went against her gut instinct. Turning your back to a boy with who knows how many knives on his person was not the greatest idea. Though perhaps it would get them to stop posturing for a second and listen.

            When she peeked back around the two of them were practically mirroring each other with their arms crossed over their chests, doing their best to look everywhere but at the boy across from them.

            “Idiots,” Pidge muttered as she turned to look at them, “Lance.”

            “What?” he asked, glancing down at her.

            “Go call Hunk, see how he’s making out with the machine.”

            It was so painfully obvious she was getting rid of him but when Pidge put on her best don’t-cross-me-or-you’ll-regret-it face (the one she learned from her mother), Lance strode off to do as he was told. She could see him in her peripheral vision pushing the buttons on the touch screen and as soon as he put the phone to his ear she turned to Keith.

            “Who’s Hunk?” Keith asked.

            “Big guy, wears an orange bandana, can’t climb a fence to save his life?”

            Keith’s mouth dropped open a little and he breathed out a soft ‘oh’.

            “I remember,” he said, “From Garrison High.”

            “Right,” Pidge said, “Lance said he knew you but that you dropped out. He was probably stretching the truth a bit on that first part but you really don’t go to our school, do you?”

            “No,” Keith raised an eyebrow, “Wait, how do you go to Garrison High? Aren’t you, like, twelve?”

            “Fourteen,” Pidge told him pointedly, “And I skipped two grades.”

            “So, you are the smart one.”

            “Yeah,” Pidge said, “But being smart doesn’t mean I don’t need to ask for help.”

            She tried to word this carefully, gauging Keith’s reaction as she spoke, “I’m building a team,” she said.

            His eyebrow remained raised but he said nothing.

            “I’m building a weather machine, built like the interior of a storm chasing van but compact. I was going to take a car but Lance and Hunk are coming along now which means we’d need something that fits all of us.”

            “Uh-huh,” Keith said.

            “And we’d need a driver to go with it. I’m not letting Lance in front of a steering wheel anytime soon, especially after that field demonstration, so we thought that maybe you could help?”

            Keith looked over at Lance and narrowed his eyes, “Can’t.”

            “Why not?” Pidge asked, trying not to sound like a sullen child.

            “Storm chasing is dangerous, kid,” Keith said as Pidge bristled at the word ‘kid’, “You should leave it to the professionals.”

            Pidge wanted to say that she had left it to the professionals and that the professionals never came back. That she’d waved bye to them from the front porch and the next thing she knew her mother was out there crying while a police officer delivered the news that ripped her whole life apart. That when Pidge snuck into the station to look at the reports none of the details lined up. That no one would listen to her when she said so. That they’d dragged her from the records office and back to her house where they told her not to make it any worse for her mom.

            But if she had said all of that she never would have heard Keith mutter, “And even then, sometimes thing’s just don’t work out.”

            Pidge could feel her plans falling apart. Her original idea of taking her mother’s car had been set to fail from the beginning. Losing one kid meant keeping an extra close eye out to make sure nothing happened to the other. It was fine when she was in the workshop. Mrs. Colt bought the story Pidge told her about wanting to be surrounded by her brother and father’s things. That it made her feel better. But if she took the car and left, it was only a matter of time before her mom went into the garage to get something only to realize her daughter and her death-trap of a car were gone.

            “I have a loft,” Pidge blurted.

            Keith looked at her questioningly but more words fell out of Pidge’s mouth before he could say anything to stop her.

            “It’s above the workshop at the back of my farm. You could park your van behind it and sleep inside instead. There’s running water too and a working fridge and electricity. You can stay there if you help us.”

            It was an idea born out of desperation but Pidge could see Keith considering it. She looked at his ragged clothes and the van he’d been sleeping in and she could see a bag of chips balanced on the front of the dashboard. He probably hadn’t eaten real food in ages, and having him stay in the loft wasn’t that bad. Her mother never went out to the workshop and it wasn’t like anyone else was using it.

            “What about after?” Keith asked.

            “After?”

            “How long do I have to drive you guys around for? Do I need to leave after? Go back to sleeping in the van?”

            Pidge considered the question and shook her head.

            “You can stay if you don’t mind me going in there to work and as long as you keep out of sight of my house. My mom can’t know you’re there.”

            Keith smirked, “Starting your rebellious teenage years out with a bang, eh? Letting some homeless stranger into your house. What would your parents say?”

            Pidge felt a sting in her heart. Her mom would be furious but Pidge liked to think her dad would be excited for her to be following in his footsteps. Well, perhaps excited isn’t the word but she didn’t think he’d be disappointed either. Storm chasing was his life. She was certain he had wanted to share that with her.

            “Do we have a deal?” Pidge asked, holding out her hand.

            Keith looked at her curiously for only a moment before reaching out and giving her hand a shake.      “Deal,” he said.

            They both turned as Lance walked back over. He looked less calm than usual and as he got closer he waved his phone in the air.

            “Pidge,” he said, “Did you take your phone?”

            Pidge’s stomach lurched and she patted the pockets of her shorts, feeling nothing. She spun around and spotted a black rectangle in the dirt, probably having tumbled out of her pocket when she’d fallen on the way from the ATV.

            She lunged for it just as it buzzed, flipping it over and pressing accept.

            “Hello?” Pidge said as calmly as she could manage.

            “Katie?” her mother asked, sounding worried, “I just went out to the workshop.”

            Pidge’s blood ran cold.

            “You were making so much noise I thought it would be better to text you since you couldn’t hear me over the machine. I was just about to go back out when you answered.”

            “I’m sorry,” Pidge said, feeling like she was about to vomit. Keith and Lance were standing over her as she crouched on the ground, wearing matching worried expressions.

            “It’s alright,” her mother said, “I just wanted to let you know that I have to head out for the evening. But there’s soup in the fridge and I’ll be back around eleven.”

            “Oh,” Pidge said, struggling to sound normal as her body sagged with relief, “Is it work?”

            “They just called me,” Mrs. Colt said sadly, “Will you be alright? I can call them back and say I can’t –“

            “No!” Pidge exclaimed, “I’m fine mom, really. Go out to work I’ll be okay.”

            This would be perfect. Now they wouldn’t have to drive Keith’s van around back and he could get settled without a problem.

            “Alright, sweetie. Call me if you need anything,” her mom said, “Or if there’s a problem.”

            “Okay, mom,” Pidge said.

            “Or if you just need to talk,” Mrs. Colt continued.

            “Okay, mom. Thanks! Bye.”

            Pidge hung up after she heard her mother echo her goodbye and then rolled onto her back to look at the sky. Instead she found two boys peering down at her.

            “She’s gone for the evening so we can go back now and park the van.”

            “I’ll follow you then,” Keith said, shrugging.

            Lance held out a hand and hauled Pidge to her feet. They exchanged frantic looks behind Keith’s back and Lance made a few hand motions Pidge didn’t understand.

            “I’ll explain later,” she hissed, before calling out that she was going to get her quad.

            They headed back to the workshop as a group, driving under the scorching sun and leaving a trail of dust in their wake.

 

­­­­

 

            “This is a nice place,” Keith said from the top of the ladder. He was beating the dust out of pillows and rearranging things to his liking. Hunk had finished the machine and was parked in the corner looking up at the newcomer suspiciously.

            “So, why is he here?” Hunk asked, “I still don’t understand. Just why is he up there?”

            “He lives here now,” Pidge said simply, “In exchange for being our taxi.”

            “Right,” Hunk said, “But has anyone stopped to think about how insane this is? What if your mom finds him? What if she finds us? Like she almost did today?”

            He was speaking a little too fast to sound relaxed and Lance slapped a hand on his back.

            “Don’t worry about it,” he said confidently, “This is all working out great. Right, Keith? Buddy?”

            “We’re not buddies,” came a reply from the loft.

            “Lance,” Hunk hissed, “This guy screams dangerous.”

            “Really?” Lance asked, “All I’m getting is the soft mumbling of teen angst.”

            “I can hear both of you,” Keith called just as Pidge elbowed Lance to shut up.

            “Are you set?” she called up to Keith.

            “Almost,” he yelled, “This is a pretty nice place.”

            “Thanks,” Pidge said, “It was my dad’s.”

            Keith’s head popped over the ledge.

            “Is he going to be mad that I’m here?” he asked skeptically.

            “No,” Pidge said, scratching her head, “He doesn’t live here anymore.”

            “Oh.”

            No one bothered to ask her what she meant by that and Pidge wasn’t feeling up to elaborating. She looked at her watch and was surprised to find that it was dinner time already.

            “Have somewhere to be?” Lance asked.

            Pidge looked up to find all three boys staring at her.

            “Uh,” she said, “No. I just didn’t realize how much time had passed. Are you guys hungry?”

            They looked at the various bags of chips and junk food Keith had decided to share with them and felt a little off at the idea of piling more food into their bodies.

            “Nope,” Lance and Hunk said at the same time as Keith shook his head.

            “Looks like a storm is brewing,” Lance remarked, looking out the open doorway and out at the sky. Dark clouds were rolling in and stealing the last bit of light from the sky. Soon the suffocating grey would be upon them.

            “The machine is ready, right?” Keith asked, crouching on his knees and sliding down the ladder to the concrete floor, “It’s now or never.”

            “You want to test it out now?” Pidge asked, feeling her stomach knot. She had expected to have a couple more weeks of entertaining Lance and now Keith in the workshop until Hunk could fix the machine. But in the two afternoons he’d spent hunched over the table some how he’d managed to piece it all together faster than she’d thought possible. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

            “I’m with her,” Hunk said nervously.

            “A storm is a storm,” Keith said, sauntering over, “I don’t see why we wouldn’t do this now.”

            Pidge steeled her nerves and nodded.

            “Then it’s a deal,” Lance said, “And luckily for us, I brought my camera.”

            “How is that lucky for us?” Hunk asked.

            “Well, if we die, then someone can find it and figure out what happened to us.”

            That statement did nothing to calm Hunk.

            Pidge, on the other hand, only wished figuring out how someone died was that easy.

 


	6. Five Out of Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BREAKING NEWS: A group of kids got caught out in a dangerous storm. More at 8.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow are we actually getting somewhere? Yes, yes we are.

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” Hunk asked from the back of the van, trying not to land on Pidge as they were tossed around wildly. Keith was running over every conceivable pothole he could manage without swerving off the road, his revenge for Lance turning the camera on him too many times. Lance, who was happily sitting upfront snapping as many pictures as he could, was still, despite the many bumps, trying to capture photos of a very disgruntled Keith.

            “Probably not,” Keith said, glancing in the rear-view mirror, “But who doesn’t like to live life on the edge?”

            Pidge detected a hint of sarcasm but that didn’t stop Hunk from showing his displeasure by loudly sighing and muttering, “People who want to make it to adulthood,” in response.

            Pidge peered out the front window as the rain was cleared by another pass of the window-wipers. It was coming down in sheets as they drove further away from the city and her home. They had secured the weather machine to the floor of the van and it was beeping away, scanning weather activity and sending reports to each of their phones. It also had a screen on the top which Pidge would glance at every now and then. So far, no signs of anything but rain. They could have gone back to the workshop already and she and Hunk could be making the few finishing touches on the machine. But Pidge had another reason for being out so far from her house. It was a chance that came up rarely and she planned to take full advantage of it this time around.

            “Turn right,” Pidge said suddenly as she caught sight of the road sign she’d been looking for. She had the location memorized, just from looking at the police reports so many times. The police report she may have stolen…

            Keith braked suddenly and reversed the van so he could follow her order. He finished off the task with a very pointed glare in the mirror.

            “Little warning next time?”

            “Sorry,” Pidge said, adjusting her glasses.

            “So,” Lance said, twisting around in his seat and snapping a photo just as Hunk was flipped from one side to the other, “How’s it working?”

            “I’m gonna be sick,” Hunk groaned as he braced himself against the wall.

            “Not in my van you’re not!” Keith snapped, twisting around.

            “Eyes on the road!” Pidge yelped as they swerved.

            “I got it,” Keith growled, as he tossed a paper bag to Hunk and straightened out the van.

            Pidge climbed to the front as Hunk vomited up something that did not in any way, shape or form resemble the junk food they’d eaten earlier and she held on to the headrest of Lance’s seat like her life depended on it.

            “Well it’s actually on,” she told Lance, “And it’s scanning the area for signs of any tornado activity.”

            “So, we should go back now,” Hunk said loudly.

            “Not yet.”

            She made eye contact with Keith in the mirror again and he frowned at her.

            “You seem weirdly insistent on going out this way,” he remarked.

            Lance looked at his face and shifted in his seat. Then, in a very steady voice he asked, “Yeah. Why is that, Pidge?”

The atmosphere in the van shifted as Pidge hesitated in answering. She wanted to be good at lying. She wanted to look them in the face and tell them it was nothing and for that to be the end of it. But more than that, she wanted to tell them the truth, that someone murdered her father and brother, and she wanted them to believe her. Seeing as neither of those things were likely to happen, Pidge decided her next best bet was avoidance.

“STOP THE VAN!” she shouted as she recognized where they were. She braced herself as Keith slammed on the brakes. They came to a screeching halt and Pidge threw open the sliding door, darting out into the rain. She’d put on her favorite green sweater before they’d left and in moments it was soaked. Her hair was flattened to her head and her glasses streaked with water but nothing would stop her. She wouldn’t let it.

“Pidge!” Lance yelled after her as she sprinted down into the ditch and further up the road. Pidge leapt the fence and where she landed, there were deep tire gouges, as if someone went careening off the road. Pidge knew it had been one year ago, before the people who owned the land had put up the fence.

She followed the tire tracks to the middle of the field and, breathing heavy, she stopped. Lance came skidding up beside her and grabbed her arm.

“What are you thinking?” he yelled, tugging her back towards the van.

“Just help me search the field,” Pidge gasped, jerking her wrist from his grasp only for him to snatch it back. “I need to see for myself.”

“See what?!” Lance asked, “We’re the tallest damn things in this field right now, Pidge. Do you know how dangerous this is?”

“I know!” she yelled, “I just have to find out.”

“Find out what?” Lance asked, grabbing her by the shoulders and holding her in place. Hunk and Keith finally caught up to them and Keith laid a hand on Lance’s arm.

“I HAVE TO KNOW WHO KILLED THEM!” Pidge screamed as a clap of thunder drowned out all other noise.

Lance’s eyes widened and his grip on her rain-soaked sweater tightened. His gaze never wavered until Keith spoke.

“Hunk,” he snapped, “We have to get back to the van.”

Seeming to understand without anything more, Hunk nodded and strode towards Pidge. She backed away as he reached out to grab her. Pidge correctly assumed Hunk was aiming to throw her over his shoulder and he would have got away with it if their phones hadn’t collectively buzzed.

Pidge was reaching into her pocket when she glanced at the sky above the van and gasped.

The boys turned to look and Lance grabbed Pidge’s wrist.

“RUN!” he yelled, spurring them all to sprint for the idling van. Lance ran so fast Pidge felt as though her feet hardly touched the ground and he practically threw her over the fence. They all scrambled up into the vehicle and Keith hit the accelerator before the doors were closed. They sped down the road as the weather machine made loud alarming noises someone would’ve had to have been in the van to hear. Pidge checked the radar and instructed Keith to take the next right. The funnel cloud had formed right after she’d gone running off like an idiot. She should have just told them what she was after in the first place.

“Katie,” Keith said, leaning over the steering wheel, “You’re Katie Holt.”

“Seriously?” Lance gaped at her, twisting all the way around in his seat.

“Sit down,” Keith snapped, grabbing the waistband of his pants and yanking him back down, “I can’t see past your ass.”

“Wait,” Hunk said, holding out a hand, “The Katie Holt? Like Sam Holt’s daughter? That Katie Holt?”

“What other Katie Holt is there?!” Pidge yelled. Silence filled the van and she wiped water from her cheeks. She’d thought maybe it was rain, but the stinging in her eyes said otherwise.

“I’m The Katie Holt. The Katie Holt with the dead brother. The Katie Holt whose father died in an alleged storm chasing accident,” she choked back a sob and wiped her nose on her sleeve, “But you guys, you can call me Pidge.”

She looked up to find three sets of eyes on her and surprisingly, they only held concern. After what she’d done, she wouldn’t blame them if it was only concern for their own lives and not her. But she was just about to apologize for everything anyway, when Lance looked ahead of them and screamed.

“KEITH! WATCH OUT!”

 

* * *

 

 

            Keith jerked the wheel to the side and the van went spinning. He hadn’t even seen the other van on the road, what with the rain blocking his line of sight so badly. Not to mention everything happening in the back. But luckily for them all, he managed to only clip the bumper. The thud was evident, even over all the other noise and as soon as they stopped, Keith put the vehicle in park and hopped out.

            As he was rounding the front Keith saw Lance spill out of the passenger seat and out onto the road, looking like, well, like someone who had narrowly avoided getting thrown through a windshield.

            Eyes wide and chest heaving with each deep breath, Lance stumbled to his feet and met up with Keith.

            “HELLO?” Keith yelled at the seemingly empty van parked half off the road. The sliding door opened behind them and Hunk jumped out of the van.

            “We have to go,” he said, “Is anyone there?”

            “I don’t know,” Keith said to him, jogging up to the front window. He wiped the rain from the driver’s side and peered in, expecting it to be abandoned.

            “Oh Hell!” he yelled, reaching for the handle. The door opened with a click and a body fell out. Lance yelped as Keith lunged to catch the falling man. He slowed his decent to the ground and the three boys stared at the unconscious form.

            “Is that…” Lance started, his question interrupted by Pidge, who was peeking out of the van from behind Hunk.

            “Takashi Shirogane?!”

            “Shiro!” Keith yelled, eyes snapping back to the man laying practically in his lap. Shiro’s face twitched, telling Keith he wasn’t dead. Keith turned to Lance.

            “Help me get him in the van.”

            Lance hesitated as he went to put Shiro’s right arm over his shoulder and Keith yelled for him to hurry up. They half-dragged him up to the sliding door and with Hunk’s help, had Shiro laying by the weather machine, still out cold.

            “This just keeps getting better and better,” Hunk said as Keith hopped up front. He sped around the _now_ abandoned vehicle and, keeping one hand on the wheel, promptly turned to look at the body in the back.

            “Shiro?” Pidge mumbled from where she was kneeling in the back.

            “You know him,” Keith said, only thinking to turn it into a question after, “Right?”

            “He was the third member of the team,” Pidge said, “He was at the workshop all the time.”

            A thought struck her.

            “We have to turn back! That was my father’s van! It might have evidence.”

            “Not right now we don’t,” Keith gasped suddenly, “We have to outrun that.”

            Pidge glanced out the window and felt her heart drop to her feet.

            The funnel cloud had touched down.


	7. Defenders of the People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We pick up in 2018 with the birth of a new team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter chapter but I'm back! Eye of the Storm isn't done yet, nor has it been abandoned. See you all next time. Thanks for reading <3

Keith punched the gas and the van shot forward, tossing its passengers about wildly. The weather machine was still going off like a smoke detector, loud and obnoxious and only serving to heighten their fear. Shiro groaned as Pidge tumbled over him and hit the side of the van with a dull thud. Lance glanced back just in time to see Hunk keel over and begin vomiting. He held up his camera and snapped a shot of the chaos.

            “What the hell are you doing?” Keith grated, skidding around a corner and speeding forward. The change in direction didn’t seem to help. The tornado was still advancing, there was no escape.

            “Dunno,” Lance said breathlessly, “But I want to remember this.”

            “You need to live first, pretty boy, now make yourself useful,” Keith snapped, “Take out your phone.”

            Lance did as he was instructed and immediately the screen flashed with a warning. The program Pidge had installed to send the readings from the machine to their phones flashed with all sorts of warnings and numbers he couldn’t understand. The wind outside the van was deafening and Lance flinched as a branch cracked against his window.

            “I don’t know how to read this,” he said loudly.

            “Learn fast,” Keith said, sending the vehicle skidding around another corner and speeding up dangerously.

            Lance glanced in the rear-view mirror to see Pidge unconscious, half sprawled on top of the equally unaware Shiro and Hunk still retching just a little off to the side. He looked back at the screen and decided.

            There were waves on a map that he guessed were indicating wind or something. The directional pull was heading East, or so it seemed. He ignored the shifting numbers and unknown data. Those little squiggles would determine their fate. He vowed to learn what it all meant should they make it out of this alive.

            “Go West!” Lance ordered.

            “Where the hell is West?”

            “Left!”

            Keith did as he was told and it seemed finally like they’d gained a bit of distance between their tiny metal rectangle on wheels and the whirling vortex of death.

            They kept at it for what seemed like an eternity. Lance gave the orders and Keith executed them smoothly and without hesitation. Finally, when the tornado was so far in the distance it was hardly more than a grey smudge, they stopped. Both were panting like they’d run a marathon, hearts beating fast with terror. Together they turned to look in the back, where the weather machine had come loose and slid off to the side and the other three were sprawled around wildly, looking very much like they regretted existing. Shiro’s eyes were open and flicking about the cab with increasing curiosity.

            “Keith?” he mumbled, twisting his head around to gaze at a groggy Pidge, in a fearful voice he whispered, “Matt?”

            Pidge looked down at him and tears welled in her eyes. She wiped at her cheeks with a damp sleeve and shook her head.

            “Katie,” Shiro said quickly, realizing his mistake, “Katie Holt. How are you here?”

            “Looks like I have an interest in storm chasing,” she said, her breath hitching, “Guess… guess it runs in the family.”

            Shiro’s gaze flitted between all of them, and he pushed himself up to a seating position.

            “Tell me,” he said, “Tell me everything.”

 

* * *

 

            “So, we were really looking for your family’s murderer?” Lance asked incredulously from where he sat in the front seat.

            Pidge had finished explaining everything from the beginning. How she’d had the idea for the weather machine and why she suspected foul play. The way the details didn’t line up in the police report and how she’d even gone so far as to sneak into the station to take a closer look at the files pertaining to the case. That she hadn’t been able to get to the scene by herself for the past year and how Lance and Hunk had strolled into her life and dangled the perfect opportunity right in front of her face. At the end of it all she couldn’t look any of them in the eye.

            “I don’t know if I should be impressed,” Hunk said slowly, “Or if I should feel used.”

            “I’m sorry,” Pidge said softly, “I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”

            “I’m more offended that you thought you could drop us after collecting evidence from the scene of the crime,” Lance scoffed, “I won’t be cast aside that easily.”

            “It’s not your business,” Pidge told him.

            “You’ve kind of made it our business,” Keith said frowning at her, “Besides, we ran into Shiro. That’s all the evidence you need, right?”

            Shiro hesitated as all eyes turned to him.

            He took a deep breath to speak, and said, “Katie…Pidge is right.”

            Something she’d been holding inside of her for an entire year cracked. She sat back on her heels, hard, and a high pitch whine escaped her throat.

            “What happened?” she said.

            “Pidge,” he said and she recognized that tone instantly. The tone that said ‘you don’t want to know’ or ‘just leave it’. A tone Pidge found that many adults liked to use to avoid tough questions.

            “No,” she said, “They were my family. I deserve to know what happened.”

            Shiro only hesitated a moment longer before closing his eyes and beginning to speak.

            “Your father had begun to develop an upgraded storm shelter. One that would be safer than anything out there right now. In between working on his designs and joining your brother and I to go out and collect data, he also began dealing with a construction company. He wanted everyone to have the upgrades by the end of the year. It wouldn’t be cheap, but it was a great deal better than some of the other offers out there.”

            It was like the world was holding its breath alongside Pidge as Shiro spoke, telling her everything she’d longed to know for what felt like forever.

            “All Sam ever wanted was to help people, but the owner of the construction company lacked that base motivation. All he saw was money, and a lot of it. A way to use people’s fear against them and trick them into investing everything they had into this new design. But he didn’t want to put out the funds for the proper materials. Sensing that the project had gone awry, Sam broke off negotiations and struck out on his own. For that, he and Matt were killed.”

            Pidge’s eyes closed and said nothing. She could feel a heavy hand on her back, comforting and warm. Hunk pulled her in close and she let him.

            “I’m sorry, Katie,” Shiro said, “I wish they had made it out instead of me.”

            “Shiro,” Keith said but Lance shushed him.

            “What do we do now?” Lance asked quietly.

            “We make sure they pay for what they did,” Pidge said in a hushed tone, her voice growing louder, “I’m not satisfied just knowing what happened. I need to know those scumbags can’t ever do that again. And I need to finish what my dad started.”

            “It’s not safe,” Shiro said, though upon seeing the look in her eyes he followed that up with, “Though I suspect you won’t stop just because I said so.”

            “I’m in,” Lance said quickly, nudging Keith.

            Keith started, “Uh, me too.”

            “Yeah,” Hunk said, “It doesn’t feel right to just let that slide.”

            They all looked at Pidge and she sniffed.

            “So, we’re a team then,” Shiro said, “Uh, the defenders of the people.”

            “What people?” Keith asked.

            “The non-murdering farm people,” Hunk said, “Obviously.”

            “Right,” Keith said, raising an eyebrow, “Sure.”

            Shiro put his arm out and looked around. Lance only hesitated for a moment before placing his palm on the top of the prosthetic hand. Keith followed suit and then Hunk and finally Pidge, who stuck her, tiny in comparison, hand at the top of the pile.

            “I can’t say that this is the best decision of my adult life,” Shiro said seriously, “But if I have to take out money grubbing company CEO’s with anyone, I’m glad to have you all at my back.”

            “Whooo!” Lance cheered and everything threw up their hands, “Let’s kick some ass!”

            Shiro side eyed him cautiously but didn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face. Pidge looked around at all of them and sighed.

            Finally, something had gone right.

            At least, she hoped.

 


End file.
